Peace of Mind
by slam a revolving door
Summary: [Oneshot] He wasn’t supposed to care for her – he wasn’t supposed to love her. For he would only bring her down when he fell. And he would fall – it was inevitable.'


**Disclaimer: **I don't own House M.D., neither do I own the lyrics to _I Hope You Dance _by Ronan Keating.

**A/N: **This isn't meant to contain spoilers to the season finale – I haven't seen it. **  
**

**Peace of Mind**

He was dying, he was sure of it as they pushed him, writhing in agony, on the hospital gurney. Faces swam in and out of focus; voices blurred into each other. Cries of shock echoed through the corridors. Silently he reflected. Taunts, jeers he had thrown carelessly around reverberated in his head. And if his treacherous mouth made murmurs of pain, then who could blame him?

"Someone get Wilson." A familiar female voice - taut with shock. Ah, Cuddy. The subject of his many jokes. A friend, in a way, he was sure.

"I will." Footsteps heading down the corridor, only to called back.

"You're a doctor. _Page_ him!"

The conversation no longer interesting him, the voice blurred again. Somewhere amidst that rabble he could pick out Foreman … Cuddy … Chase … and was that Wilson?

But where was Cameron?

His heart constricted painfully at the thought of the younger doctor. He cursed himself with whatever strength he had left. He wasn't supposed to care for her – he wasn't supposed to love her. For he would only bring her down when he fell. And he _would _fall – it was inevitable.

It didn't matter anymore. He was dying after all. And as long as he held that certainty that she would never become like him, he would be happy.

_I hope you never lose your sense of wonder  
You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger  
May you never take one single breath for granted  
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed._

He closed his eyes – weren't they closed already? – as the noise faded. Someone was shaking his arm, telling him to hold on, hold on … stay with us, but somehow it seemed trivial now. He was a drowning man in the sea with nothing to hold on to except that narrow plank of wood that was his sanity. But did he really want to hold on?

"Where's Cameron?"

Cameron. Where _was _she?

They were lowering him onto a bed? An operating table? He couldn't tell anymore. All he knew was that he was cold – oh so cold …

Cling on to your thoughts … hold tight because there's nothing else. Heck, cling to _her _if it helped… cling to her innocence, her beauty, her caring. Cling to the hope that she would retain that even if he died. Cling to the knowledge that she _had _retained it, in spite of his attempts to break her.

_I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean  
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens  
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance  
and when you get the choice to sit it out or dance  
I hope you dance  
I hope you dance  
_

He desperately tried to remember the first time that he'd loved her. Perhaps it was when they were at the Monster Truck Rally together. But no – there had to be a reason why he'd asked her to go with him in the first place. Was there? Could he remember? Perhaps the first time he'd realised it was when she asked him if he liked her. Those moments as he realised how much he could hurt her … and how much he didn't _want _her to be hurt.

Oh God, the pain …

The flash of pain in her eyes when he'd said no … had that hurt him? But it was just a small pain – in place of the huge hurt he could inflict on her if he'd said yes. Why did she have to ask him anyway? Why did she have to be so good?

_I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance  
Never settle for the path of least resistance  
Living might mean taking chances but they're worth taking  
Loving might be a mistake but it's worth making  
Don't let some hell bent heart leave you bitter  
When you come close to selling out reconsider  
Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance  
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance  
_

He could never love her the way she deserved. He hoped he wouldn't leave her bitter. But then again, her first husband hadn't left her bitter, and he'd loved her. Or at least he thought he'd loved her.

Where was she?

He was broken … damaged … and so was she. Those jagged pieces would never fit together – no amount of wishing could _ever _make them so. But she was glass and he was clay, and glass can be welded so that it could be smooth again. She shouldn't think of him. He was just her grumpy old boss _who she'd loved _and he would soon be gone.

_I hope you dance (time is a wheel in constant motion always)  
I hope you dance (rolling us along)  
I hope you dance (tell me who wants to look back on the years and wonder)  
I hope you dance (where those years have gone)  
_

And if he did pull through, well, what of that? It wouldn't change anything – she'd still be beautiful and innocent and pure and all the things he wasn't. And he'd still die before her or she would leave and he would be left hoping that she wouldn't change, wherever she was. Wherever he wasn't.

_I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean  
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens  
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance  
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance  
_

She deserved to believe … she had so much misplaced faith within her. Faith in him – the irony would have made him laugh if he could. But of course he couldn't. But there was only so much time she had to choose to go on with life … to seize opportunities and not get bogged down with an old cripple like him. And so he pushed her away. Just so she would live.

_Dance (time is wheel in constant motion always)  
I hope you dance (rolling us along)  
I hope you dance (tell me who wants to look back on the years and wonder)  
I hope you dance (where those years have gone)  
_

Where was she? Would he even be able to say goodbye? Would he be able to? Somewhere in the distance he heard a door opening and voice exclaiming. He wanted to listen, but he could feel the anaesthetic being injected into his body. Did someone just tell the anaesthetist to _stop, stop!_ Was that her voice?

His eyelids were too heavy to open, and his ears too deaf to hear. But his mouth – oh that treacherous mouth – opened a crack.

"_Cameron …"_

Was that a hand in his, and tears upon his cheeks? Was that her figure he could see through the gap in his eyelids? Was she there, a faint presence by his side? Was that her kiss upon his cheek?

But then the darkness called, and he went, unwillingly, still trying to see.

Was it her?

_I hope you dance  
I hope you're dancing  
I hope you're dancing  
I pray you're dancing  
I hope you dance_

Why did it matter?

* * *


End file.
